The Celtic Wolf
by Iris Musicia
Summary: AU: when a little girl is born to the queen of a Celtic tribe, everybody assumes her normal until she displays remarkably wolflike disposition. Shunned by her tribe, she lives with the "wolves" on the edge, with danger of all sorts on every side.
1. The Warrior Queen

**Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men; now don't make me say that again through this whole fanfic.**

**A/N: I'm going to try to be as historically accurate as possible in this story. Don't get on my case if this isn't super-accurate to the textbook. It's a fanfiction, not an autobiography!**

**The Warrior-Queen**

_Queen Boudica, the tall, fiery-tempered, red-haired Celtic queen, was a queen of the ancient Celtic Iceni tribe in Britain. The area the Iceni tribe inhabited is modern-day Norfolk. The name "Boudica," also spelled "Boudicca," or "Boadicea," means "victory;" which is what Queen Boudica is famous for. __She was born around BC 2, and lived until AD 60. Little about her death is known, because she, along with her two daughters, disappeared at Manduessedum, in a battle against the Roman forces commanded by Gauis Suetonius Paulinus. One thing about Boudica that is well known, though: she was a warrior._

*

The day the great Queen Boudica's daughter was born, the whole Iceni tribe held its breath. If the daughter of the tall, fiery, read-haired Celtic queen was going to be anything like her mother, she had a lot to live up to. The baby was quite unremarkable, but pretty cute, as babies are.

"What will her name be, Queen?" one of the midwives asked the new mother. Boudica considered for a moment, looking at the small child in her arms.

"Rahne. Her name will be Rahne."

*

Five years after Rahne's birth, she was living a good life, due to the fact she was the daughter of the King and Queen of the Iceni tribe. Rahne had no sisters or brothers, but the other kids living in the compound were fun to play hunt with.

"Rahne! Come here!" Rahne's mother's rough voice called over the compound. Rahne gave the horse she was stropping [1] one final glance and dropped the wisp, running off towards the roundhouse. She arrived to see Boudica standing in the clearing in front of the roundhouse holding two swords.

"Today, I'm going to teach you how to fight. Take this sword and swing it at me as hard as you can." Boudica offered Rahne the lighter, shorter sword. Rahne looked at it for a moment, then took it. The sword nearly fell out of her hands; she hadn't been prepared for the weight of it. She did what she was told, though, and managed to swing it at Boudica's leg. Boudica swing her sword down, almost lazily, and blocked Rahne's weak blow.

"The sword's heavy, mum," Rahne complained, letting the sword drop in her hands so the tip dug into the earth, but the hilt stayed in her hands.

"Of course it is! How would you kill a Roman with a light sword? You'll learn how to do this, Rahne, if it's the last thing I teach you. I learned to fight with a sword when I was three!" Boudica scoffed. Rahne dragged the sword into an upright position. Her arms shook with the effort of holding the sword upright in front of her. Boudica smiled at her daughter's efforts.

"Good! We'll have a warrior out of you yet. Now, brace yourself. I'm going to swing my sword, and you have to make sure my sword-tip doesn't hit you." The queen let her sword-tip drop and whistle through the air, clanging against her daughter's sword. The impact, though Boudica thought it was light, made Rahne stagger sideways with the effort of holding the sword and maintaining her balance. Boudica's sword swung back down in her hands and hit Rahne's little sword a second time. Already off balance, Rahne toppled over and nearly sliced herself on the fallen blade.

"I can't do it! I'm not meant for swords. I'm titchy, not like you, mum." Rahne said, picking herself up and hauling her sword up. If there was one thing Rahne learned in five years, it was to always pick yourself back up.

"If you really can't manage a sword, then go into the roundhouse and find my slingshot. Maybe you'll be good with that." Boudica frowned and sent little Rahne off. What Rahne had said worried Boudica. Normally, five-year-olds were so much bigger than Rahne. She was right when she had said she was titchy. Rahne came running back out of the roundhouse, holding the yew slingshot.

"Found it," Rahne said.

"Find a little pebble," Boudica commanded. Rahne dropped to the ground and scrounged around for a pebble. She straightened back up with a small, round stone in her dirty little hand. Boudica nodded and took it, putting it on the leather shape that was attached to the sheep tendons.

"Watch me closely." The queen furrowed her brow for a moment, pulling back on the pebble and leather, then released it. Rahne looked around wildly to find the pebble, then she heard a faint _thunk_. Boudica started striding toward one of the trees in the compound, Rahne running to keep up with her mother's vast steps. When she got to the tree, Boudica lifted Rahne up to show her a small, deep hole high in the tree's trunk.

"The pebble's in there?" Rahne asked in wonder. Boudica grunted, and set Rahne down. For such a small child, she weighed a lot; but she wasn't an ounce overweight. Dense muscles, Boudica supposed.

"Yes. Do you want to learn the slingshot?" Boudica asked. Rahne nodded, ecstatic.

"I'd love to!"

*

After an hour of coaching Rahne how to aim a slingshot, Boudica was quite satisfied with her daughter's performance. Rahne, however, was sorry she ever asked to learn slingshot. After Boudica had explained how Rahne would hit with pinpoint accuracy, knocking out the enemy's eyes, and how she would one day succeed as the Iceni queen, Rahne wanted nothing to do with war. It was too . . . involved, and time-consuming, not to mention slightly bloody.

Rahne retreated to the horse's pasture and hunted for her wisp before going back to strop another horse. The horses didn't mind Rahne, they just kept on grazing as Rahne smacked their coats with the wisp of wound hay, smack, brush, rub, smack, brush, rub, smack, brush, rub . . . Rahne fell into a sort of daze as she automatically moved the wisp over the horse's legs and belly – those were the only parts of the horse she was tall enough to reach.

The little girl was thinking about how she was so short, but the only reason the other kids didn't tease her was because her mother was the queen. Rahne's mind moved from subject to subject, considering things well beyond her years. It was obvious she had inherited her mother's smarts and cunning. Finally, Rahne came to the horses. Her mother wouldn't let her ride them, and she didn't like Rahne going into the pastures. Why, though? Rahne didn't see anything wrong with that. So, then, what did Boudica see with that?

*

In the roundhouse, Boudica was standing over the fire, her husband, Prasutagus, the king, was talking to her.

"She's not normal, Prasutagus! Five years old, and barely up to a horse's knee! Weighs as much as a young pig, not a stone of fat!" Boudica ranted, stirring the stew angrily.

"Well, love, you're not exactly normal either," Prasutagus reasoned. "Taller than a man, fiercer than a she-wolf," he laughed.

"Yes, that's all well, but it's just . . . just, uh!" Boudica said, lost for words. "Out with the horses each day, doesn't want to learn about swords and slingshots or fighting! Rahne has only ears for horses, dogs and wolves!"

"Right proper huntress, then. Rahne insists on dogs, then Rahne'll be the leader of the pack one day, you'll see. Horses, that's fine. Rahne will be the woman of the woods. It's not a bad thing, love." Prasutagus said, standing from the bench and going over to Boudica. They were both the same height, so when Boudica looked up from the fire, she didn't have to really tilt her chin to see into Prasutagus's dark eyes. The queen sighed and stepped away from him, turning her attention back to the fire.

All Boudica really wanted was a daughter to carry on her legacy, a daughter just like her, a warrior queen. The daughter she didn't get with Rahne, though, she was about to get. Boudica turned her gaze from the fire to her big belly. The bulge was mainly hidden by the thick wool of her dress and shawl, but you could still see it if you looked hard enough. Prasutagus was hoping it was a son, so he could have a king to rule after him, but Boudica dearly wanted a daughter. A flame-haired warrior queen daughter.

*

** First chapter of my new story! I'm keeping it as historically accurate as possible, but seeing as nothing about Boudica's daughters was ever really recorded, I can have more freedom with this. Please review!**

**[1] Stropping a horse is not, like, beating it. Stropping is a rather therapeutic was of brushing a horse with a wisp – a small piece of hay or twine – that is used to briskly rub the horse and "beat" the flat muscles of the shoulders, barrel, neck, and haunches. This makes the muscles release the waste products, like lactic acid, and feels good to the horse.**


	2. The Hunt Game

**Disclaimer: you guys are going to end up sending me to the loony bin if you keep making me type these stupid, redundant disclaimers.**

**A/N: I don't know why I wrote a note . . . I guess it's just a habit . . .**

**The Hunt Game**

It seemed that Queen Boudica had gotten her wish, when, five months later, her second daughter was born. Like Rahne, the little baby had red hair, but nothing else was really known about her. Boudica named her second daughter Camile, for she was as sweet and beautiful as the little chamomile flowers that grew throughout the compound, and also as promising as the mistletoe the druids cut from the oak trees.

Rahne wasn't that happy about having a new baby sister, because now, Boudica wanted Rahne to spend time with Camile – time she could be spending with the horses. Boudica didn't know, but Prasutagus suspected, the reason the horses were always so well groomed was Rahne. On the rare occasion Rahne got bored of the horses, she would go into the compound where the other children lived, and play hunt.

Hunt was a fun game, and Rahne, being the smallest and fastest, nearly always got to play the prey, whether it be a deer, fox, wild cat, dog, or even wolf. She didn't mind _that_ much. The big kids would put woad berries in their slingshots and try to hit Rahne. If she denied it, they would look on her dress and shawl for the telltale blue stain that woad berries made. Rahne had only gotten hit once, on the heel as she rounded a corner. The shot had fallen low, and just barely gotten her foot. The "hunt" was over and the fox she was playing was "killed" and "taken home," code for Rahne getting tied up and hoisted onto the boys' shoulders and carried back to her roundhouse, which was pretty much the base of operations.

Today, though, the roundhouse wasn't base of ops, and Rahne was stuck watching over Camile while Boudica was out with Prasutagus, hunting for real. She didn't like to leave her days-old daughter alone with Rahne. It wasn't that she didn't _trust_ Rahne, but thought that she was likely to run off to the horses and leave Camile alone. Prasutagus was fine with leaving Rahne at home. Rahne was her father's daughter, truly; Prasutagus, as a young boy, would always run off to the woods or the horses, and taught himself to ride at age seven.

Camile started bawling, and Rahne looked around wildly for the pail of cows' milk Boudica had said to give to Camile.

"Eh! Camile," Rahne blustered, stumbling up from her bed, which she was sitting on. There, in the darkest, coolest corner, was the wooden pail of creamy milk. Rahne grabbed the pail and carried it over to Camile's little bed. Though the pail was quite heavy, little Rahne had no problem with it. She dipped her fingers in the milk and let Camile suck on them. She stopped crying, much to Rahne's relief, and fell asleep.

"Rahne! Hey Rahne!" One of the kids from the compound kids called from outside the roundhouse. Marcus, one of the big kids at six, poked his head around the roundhouse doorframe. He saw Rahne and stepped in.

"Can you play today?" he asked. Rahne shook her head and turned to the fire. Marcus looked over the edge of Camile's bed. "So this is Camile?"

"Yes. She's more of a –" Rahne started to say, but caught something in her sufficiently sharper peripheral vision. Prasutagus, standing in the doorway. He must've gotten back early from the hunt. She stopped talking very quickly and looked up at her father.

"Go on talking, Rahne. I'd like to hear what you have to say." He said, a slight smile on his face, under his beard.

"Nothing, father." Rahne said quickly, turning her eyes back to the fire, which had faded from a crackling flame to smoldering embers. The dim light reflected in her wide, dark eyes, staring blankly into things nobody else could see in the dying fire.

"Right then, if you say so. How was Camile?" Prasutagus asked, entering the roundhouse and noticing Marcus. He frowned at the boy and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Marcus hurried out quickly, eyes averted.

"Good. I know you'd want to be outside, so thank you for watching your sister for a while. Off you go." Rahne smiled up at her father, the empty, brooding look gone from her eyes. What had she been thinking about?

*

Rahne crept through the ferns by one of the roundhouses. She flattened herself to the ground as some of the kids, playing hunt, stampeded by, slingshots cocked and ready to hit Rahne. She smiled to herself. She was so much older than these kids in the way she thought and acted, she was so much stronger and more compact, too, and she knew it, though by the druids' calendars, she was a year or two younger.

She was faster than them, and could run like a dog on four legs, at the speed of a dog. Sometimes, she even growled like a dog, or bared her teeth if she got really upset. Everybody assumed it was an act. For Rahne, though, it was instinct.

"You'll never believe this, but I got one of my father's deerhounds to come with me to track and find Rahne!" Marcus's voice boomed nearby. Rahne's acute hearing and sense of smell picked up on the sounds of a dog snuffling the ground and the familiar, strong dog-smell. The other boys with Marcus congratulated him and whooped, thinking they'd finally get Rahne. From her hiding spot, Rahne peeked around the roundhouse and saw the great, wiry-coated dog standing a bit away from Marcus, nose to the ground.

Marcus tapped it on the shoulder, making its head jerk up and wheel around. The dog eyed the boy with something that was not unlike resent. Marcus was "master," at least for now, so the dog had to obey him. The boy held out a piece of cloth, and Rahne realized, with a jolt, it was her spare shawl. How dare he steal from her! Rahne sank back down into the ferns, lips drawn back like a dog. She didn't even realize she was growling.

She coiled up and sprang from the ferns, charging at the boys, who didn't have their slingshots even loaded, so they couldn't get her. Rahne ran on four legs, barreling toward them. She was supposed to be a deer, but that was forgotten a while ago. Many of the boys scattered, and even the deerhound jumped back in surprise. The shawl was snatched from Marcus's hand, clutched in Rahne's teeth, before he even knew what had happened.

Rahne straightened up and took the wool shawl from her mouth, shaking it angrily at Marcus. For a second, she figuratively towered over Marcus, very much like her mother.

"How dare you steal this from me! You filthy, thieving _commoner_!" Rahne shrieked. To be called a commoner was a big insult. Marcus shrank down. From their various, quickly found hiding spots, the other boys regained their sense and loaded their slingshots. Rahne heard the _twang_ of the sheep tendons and had dropped down to four legs quickly, woad berries flying over her head, where her chest had been a second ago. It would have been a disgraceful "kill" for Rahne. The hunt never paused, so any shot was a fair shot, no matter what.

Rahne transferred the shawl back to her mouth and took off, trying to not step on her dress. She heard Marcus shout to the dog, "GO!"

The deerhound started cantering after Rahne, its long legs taking it much faster than Rahne's ill-adapted (in the sense of running on four legs, or "ground running") legs. Rahne scrambled up on two legs and kept running, throwing glances over her shoulder to see the deerhound after her, and hear the boys a ways back, shouting and making a huge racket as they chased Rahne and the deerhound through the compound.

Suddenly, Rahne's dress snagged on the thorns that sprang up near the gate. There was a ripping noise and a huge section of Rahne's dress tore away, leaving a huge slit right up to her hip. She couldn't do anything about it at the moment, but kept running, bounding right into the woods. The deerhound chased after her, leaping over any obstacles easily, flying through the woods after Rahne, his "prey."

The deerhound started to gain on Rahne, who was slowing with a combination of hard terrain, flagging stamina, and overheating. Any normal kid – any normal person, for that matter – wouldn't have been able to keep the sprinting pace Rahne had beat through the compound and the woods being chased by a deerhound, in a heavy wool dress and shawl in the summer. The deerhound was cantering along after Rahne, waiting for her to falter before putting on a burst of speed.

Rahne's ripped dress caught on a bramble and she stumbled – what the deerhound was waiting for. The dog took a flying leap and landed square on Rahne's back, front paws on her shoulders, flooring her. Rahne struggled to throw the dog off her back before it bit her neck. That would be fatal. She flipped over beneath the dog's clawed paws and bared her teeth, growling and reaching up to grab the dog's neck. Rahne widened her eyes and growled more loudly, sitting up and toppling the dog off her. She was asserting her dominance.

The dog tried to raise his head, but Rahne fastened her teeth on the dog's neck and growled into the dog's fur, making him cower in submission. She stood and planted her hands on her hips, the picture of dominance.

_I am not the prey. I am the huntress._

**Chapter 2! I'm sorry I made you wait so long . . . I promise [author's honor!] that chapter 3 will be updated more quickly! You have my author's honor, so ping (PM) me if I don't update within three days. Cheers!**


	3. The Wolves

**Disclaimer: whatever.**

**A/N: ! I think there's a limit on how many times you can scream "crap," and I think I've broken the limit . . . a long time ago. I have so many stories to update and I have to go to bed early (I'm dead serious) 'cuz I have to wake up at six to go to Busch Gardens with my friend and I really need to get Celtic Wolf squared so I can work on Phantom . . . and I have to organize all the DVDs in the house, as well as clean my room and pack for an overnight. HOLY F***ING CRAP! If you hear about a girl whose head exploded, know that you won't be reading any more from Iris Musicia.**

**A/N2: I just got back from BG! I saw **_**Eclipse**_** too, and they were both amazing! I fainted on the Griffon, though…. I'm a wuss, yeah. So cool! I spent most of my day in the German section, and The Curse of DarKastle reminded me **_**sooo**_** much of Kurt in Nightcrawler's Shadow's **_**Blood Passion**_**. It was sooooo awesome!**

**A/N3: time jump of about 8 years here, FYI.**

**The Wolves**

_I am not the prey. I am the huntress. I am not the prey, I am the huntress. I am not the prey I am the huntress. I am not the prey I am the huntress I am not the prey I am the huntress !_

That phrase ran through Rahne's mind in a continuous stream, speeding up until it was just a whisper of noise at the back of her head.

At age thirteen, Rahne still played hunt with the village boys, but she dressed in pants (much to her mother's disapproval and her father's amusement), and she wasn't the prey so often. Many times, she would take one of Prasutagus's dogs, one day the deerhound, the next day the hound, the day after that the wolfhound. Well, not the wolfhound. Rahne was fine with the deerhound (which was not the one that had chased her eight years ago) and the plain old hound, but the wolfhound . . .

Prasutagus's pride and joy was his tall, muscular, silver wire-coated wolfhound, named Andraste, after the war goddess. Andraste wasn't mean to Rahne, but just looked at Rahne like she _was_ the prey. The girl had asserted her dominance over the bitch, but it was still unnerving to be around the wolfhound. Wolves, the top predators of the area, were Andraste's prey, thus making her the top predator of the area. Nobody else had a wolfhound, or was permitted to have a wolfhound. Though deerhounds, by breed, were bigger than wolfhounds, Andraste was taller and much more muscular than the other deerhound dogs. Rahne was scared of the bitch, but didn't let it show.

During the hunt game, though, Rahne never used Andraste, because before Prasutagus made the pact with the Romans and became allies, he would charge into battle in his chariot with Boudica swinging her sword and Andraste galloping by the side, biting and felling the Roman soldiers as she swept past. Rahne hadn't been born when Andraste was a battle-tough bitch, but hunting wolves had kept her tough as old nails, sharp as Prasutagus's sword, sly as a fox, and swift and strong as the wolves – and Rahne. Still, Andraste scared Rahne.

Rahne wiped the sweat from her brow and held her long, flame-red hair off the back of her neck. It was summer, and Boudica insisted that Rahne wear a dress, not Prasutagus's old pants, which were actually cooler than the heavy wool dress.

The girl had just finished her chores, and slipped off to the horses. In the field, out of sight of her roundhouse, Rahne took the pins out of her dress and let half the skirt fall to the ground, removed her shawl and took the pins out of her sleeves. Her dress now came to her mid-thighs, and the sleeves of her dress ended a few inches after her shoulders. Boudica would have a cow if she saw Rahne like this.

She wound her way through the herd, feeling down each horse's legs, checking for the heat of lameness. Rahne gave each a pat and moved on, then came to the center of the herd, where Pillia, her father's favorite broodmare, was laying down, her muzzle resting on the ground, her eyes glazed. Rahne dropped to her knees and stroked Pillia's forehead, ran her hands down her spine and barrel. Rahne gasped and stood, walking quickly out of the herd, then sprinting to find her mother.

She burst into the center of the village, to find Boudica chatting with the other women.

"Pillia's foaling!" Rahne burst out. Boudica looked up in surprise.

"What?"

"Pillia – father's broodmare – is foaling! Hurry!" Boudica stood and swept over, following Rahne to the horse's pasture.

By the time they wound their way to Pillia, she was standing, nuzzling a little wet thing to stand. Rahne cooed at it, and the little foal cocked its head and squeaked at her.

"Aw, Rahne, it seems you have a new friend," Boudica smiled. Rahne reached out to touch it, but Pillia moved her body slightly to block Rahne's hand. Suddenly, Pillia whirled around, facing the woods, ears pinned back. Andraste slunk out of the woods, head low, shoulders rolling smoothly, blood on her jowls, trailing down her neck and chest. Rahne smelled the blood and scrunched her nose. That wasn't deer blood, or even wolf blood. It was human blood.

"Mother! Andraste! Blood!" Rahne said quickly. Boudica looked confused, then saw the wolfhound.

"Shush, Rahne. She might have found a deer or boar to hunt. Calm down, you're scaring the horses." Boudica scolded. The horses _did_ look nervous, and started converging on Pillia and her new foal, protecting them from the bloody Andraste.

Rahne looked back and feigned interest in the foal again, but was watching Prasutagus go up and catch Andraste on a leather thong, shaking the thong harshly, obviously scolding her. Rahne looked back to the foal, who was now suckling Pillia.

"Excuse me, mother." Rahne said quietly. Boudica nodded and went to talk with her woman friend about the foal. Rahne slunk over to where Andraste had appeared from the woods. It was cold and dark over here, and Rahne shivered slightly. Her sharp sense of smell caught the tang of fear and blood. There was a tuft of dark hair caught on a briar. Rahne picked it up and smelled it. It was a strange, alien scent, that of a male human, but it smelled just _different_. It was a dark color lock of hair, but strangely blue, a darker blue than she had ever seen, darker than all the woad.

"Who are you?" Rahne murmured. She followed the scent trail deeper and deeper into the woods, and it was not only the male scent, but Andraste's, and blood, and fear. Rahne realized eventually that she was on all fours, loping easily through the brush, then her ears pricked as she heard low voices.

One voice was male, the other was female. Rahne froze, listening hard. They (the voices) had strange accents, harsh and alien.

"Kätzchen, _leise_." The male voice said. Rahne didn't know what a "kätzchen" or a "leise" was, but she kept listening. There was a slight rustle, and Rahne's eyes widened as a heavy weight landed on her back, four points of extreme pressure on her shoulders and hips, pinning her flat on her stomach. She growled and tried to twist her head around to see her attacker, but recoiled as a pair of jaws snapped closed centimeters away from her face. The same male scent that Rahne had followed was clinging to this man on her back, along with the blood.

"Kurt, it's a werewolf!" the female voice said. Rahne barely understood her, and had no idea what a "werewolf" was. She assumed that "kurt" was a swearword. The man grasped her hair, roughly hauling her to her feet.

"So it is." He had a deeper, rougher accent that the lady. "A Celtic wolf."

"I'm not a wolf. Let me go. I'll set Andraste on you again!" Rahne growled viciously. The man responded with a sharp yank on her flame-red hair. Rahne growled again, rolling her eyes to see the man. He was standing directly behind her, so it was impossible.

Rahne refocused on the lady, who looked normal apart from the fact she was as small as a pixie – and looked about as strong as a light breeze. She had long chocolate hair and bright blue eyes, both rather strange but not unheard of features.

"Who are you?" Rahne bared her teeth in defiance, earning another tug on her hair. Rahne didn't like the pulling on her hair, so she kicked backwards like a horse and felt her foot connect solidly with the man's leg. He let go of her hair, but some sort of tendril wrapped around her ankles and she fell on her face. Rahne kicked the tendril off and leaped up at the man, but was hit down by a brutal punch to the face.

"And zat's not even as hard as I can hit, _Hündin_." The man growled in Rahne's ear.

"What did you do that for, Kurt? She's got to be only thirteen, she doesn't know what's going on." The lady said, but when she moved to help Rahne up, the man blocked her.

"She can do it herself." The man said. Rahne pushed herself up, taking a good look at the two. Her left cheek was swelling from the man's punch, making her squint, but she was pretty sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. The man was _blue_, like he had jumped in a pot of woad. He had gold eyes and pointed ears, he was tall and had a tail, and doglike legs. Yet the lady was comfortable with his arm around her waist.

"You're hideous," Rahne spat at the man. He glared at her.

"Try taking a look at yourself," He replied icily. Rahne pushed herself onto four legs and loped toward the sound of running water. She looked down at her warped reflection and shrieked.

Her face was almost completely covered in auburn fur, her ears were pointed almost on top of her head, her nose and mouth had formed a short muzzle with dull canine teeth. She had that auburn fur on most of her body, as well as wolfy legs, but still normal hands. She had a stumpy, brushy tail.

"What did you do to me?" Rahne yelled, sprinting back into the area where the man and lady were.

"We didn't do anything. You're special." The lady said, stepping forward, out of the man's grasp.

"You're witches. And you're a demon. I'm glad Andraste got after you." Rahne said venomously, spying the bloody strips of cloth around the man's chest.

"Zat dog vas yours?" the man asked. Rahne nodded.

"I'll call her back if I want." She bluffed.

"I don't think so." The lady called her bluff. "I saw a man put her on a leash."

"How did you see him?" Rahne tensed.

"I followed the dog."

"Why didn't she bite you?"

"Kurt, should we tell her?" the lady asked over her shoulder. The man nodded, closing his bright gold eyes.

"Okay, look. We're foreigners, here for Boudica. There's more of us, and we're all special. You see Kurt, right there? He can teleport, one place to another. I'm Kitty. I can walk through solid objects, and people. That's why your dog couldn't bite me. She went through me. Boudica knows one of us from when she was young, and asked if we could come help fight a war. She knows a war with the Romans is coming, and she needs backup from special people like us. Will you come help? Our camp's just a little farther in the forest." The lady, Kitty, explained. Kurt, the man, nodded again.

"Sorry about attacking you. You scared us, especially since you look like a dog, and, vell, you know." Kurt said.

"What do you say? Will you come meet the rest of us?" Kitty asked. She held out a small hand, and Rahne took it, standing up on her back legs. "Take us home, Kurt."

Kurt wrapped Rahne and Kitty in an embrace, and there was a moment of searing heat before they appeared in a clearing in the heart of the forest.

"Hello everyone."

**Ok, ja, so…. Celtic Wolf…. More Kurtty-ish stuff next chap. Just FYI **_**Hündin **_**means "bitch", so, ja, stuff…. Now on to Through the Eyes of a Killer…. God, I have to wake up at six tomorrow for a trail ride… Busch gardens put me sooooooo behind schedule! I hope I can make it! **


	4. The Red Queen of Wolves

**Thank you very much to Jessie07, and no, they just think she's odd, Indigo-Night-Wisp, and I totally agree, and Cloudy-TheNightmareQueen. This update, however, is dedicated to bookwormrdd for getting me off my duff and making me write this! Enjoy!**

Rahne opened her eyes and dropped back down onto her four legs. The tall trees framed the little clearing, which had a few tall boulders strewn around on the other side. A sheet of rough cloth had been propped up against the boulders to form a rough tent.

"Ve met a new mutant!" Kurt called to the tent. Rahne cocked her head, not knowing what "mutant" meant.

"Really? Wow! They're rare up here." People appeared out of the tent. There was a tall man with normal eyes, except the irises were red! There was a tall willowy girl with hair as red as Rahne's, who seemed to like the red-eyed man. There was a stocky girl with dark hair (again, unusual) with a white stripe through it, definitely marking her as a foreigner, through the willowy girl and the red-eye man could pass as tribespeople if they had to. Rahne rubbed her pawlike fists into her eyes and did a double take at the last boy. He had dark skin! She cautiously approached them, intent on the dark-skin boy, the color of fresh mud.

"Did your mother drop you in mud when you were a babe?" Rahne asked, finding that speech was harder with her changing mouth.

"I'm from a faraway place, which is also part of the Roman Empire, called Africa. We all have dark skin there, as protection from the sun, which is hotter and brighter there." The boy had a rich voice, and Rahne found she liked it very much. "I'm Evan."

"I'm Jean, this is Scott, and this is Rogue." The red-head said. Rahne padded over to her and sniffed her critically.

"You're from a southern tribe." She said to Jean. "But you don't have a tribal name."

"I changed it." Jean said simply.

"But I know you two are foreigners." Rahne said to red-eye man and white-stripe girl, Scott and Rogue.

"We come from the same place, not part of the Roman Empire, but it's just as far away as Africa. Kitty comes from there too. It's called the Home-Land. We're part of a tribe called the Iroquois. **[1]** Kurt is from a Gothic tribe, in the south." Scott said. Rahne nodded sagely, pretending to understand what the Iroquois were, but knowing that the Goths were people similar to the Iceni.

"And you're Boudica's daughter. She must expect a lot from you . . . though if she saw you now she'd be quite disappointed her daughter was a mutant." Jean said, hands on hips. Rahne stood and mirrored the pose, though had to drop back down quickly because she was losing her balance.

"Wha—yoon'n . . . ?" Rahne garbled in a growly, low voice.

"Don't talk, your transformation's almost complete," Jean said, staring at Rahne with fixated fascination. Rahne growled at the overt attention the southerner was giving her. Jean's eyes snapped away from Rahne, down to the ground, and her hands fell from her hips. Rahne stopped growling; good, that Jean submitted. She wheeled around and looked at the others. They were mirroring Jean's pose. If she'd been human at the time, Rahne would have smirked. She had her own pack now.

_"So what now?_" Rahne tried to say. It came out as a snarly bark. Jean glanced at Rahne for a second.

"You have a real Goddess-given power, little queen." She said respectfully. Images of the Goddess, Andraste, snapped into her mind and suddenly she found herself crouched uncomfortably on the ground.

"What just happened?" she asked, voice un-garbled. Everyone looked delighted.

"You shapeshift to a wolf! A red wolf!" Kitty said excitedly.

"Yer motha called us here t' help 'er faght a war, though she's been starin' her most pow'rful ally in th' face fer years." Rogue said prophetically, and Rahne overlooked her almost unintelligible accent.

"What does that mean?" Rahne snapped. Jean hurried to answer the little queen.

"It means that you'll be the biggest warrior in this war coming up." She said.

"But I don't _like_ war. It's bloody." Rahne protested petulantly.

"So it is." Kurt said. "Zere's not much you can do about it."

There was an uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

"Well . . . what now?" Rahne asked.

"You can probably go back to your compound now, but don't tell anybody about us, or your mother will lose the edge we give her in battle. You may tell her that we are here, but nothing more than that." Evan said in his lovely exotic voice. Rahne felt her face split into a wide grin.

"Sure," she said softly. "I'll come back tomorrow, I promise."

"How're ya g'nna find us?" Rogue asked.

"I'm a wolf, I'll smell you." Rahne answered simply, thinking about wolves and suddenly finding herself down on all fours as a red-furred wolf; a _big_ wolf, bigger than even Andraste. She dipped her head and loped off into the brush, loving the power she felt in this huge, primal form.

All of a sudden, she heard something to her right. She stopped mid-stride and turned her ears as for the second time that day something pounced on her. Andraste the wolfhound cannoned into her side, growling furiously, teeth ripping for Rahne's neck. Twisting her head around, Rahne grabbed Andraste's scruff and shook the bitch violently.

"_Oi!_" Prasutagus shouted, thundering through the brush; something whistled past Rahne's ears. She let Andraste go and became a girl again, running up to her father.

"No, father, it's me!" she said gleefully. Prasutagus paled dramatically. He gripped Rahne by the shoulders and stared straight into her eyes.

"You will not tell anyone about this, understood, Rahne? Do not go around the compound like a wolf or you will get hurt or killed. We need to see your mother." He said gravely, taking her hand and summoning for Andraste, who slunk past Rahne, embarrassed by her easy defeat.

They returned to the compound quickly. Rahne ran ahead to her roundhouse with her normal thirteen-year-old exuberance.

"Mother! They're here." She said. Boudica, holding Camile (though the girl was far too old to be held), almost dropped her second-born.

"Tell her what happened in the woods, Rahne." Prasutagus said. Rahne nodded to her father and skipped over to her mother, beckoning for her to bend down so she could whisper in the queen's ear.

"I'm a wolf." Rahne said, unable to contain her smile. Quick as a flash, Boudica whirled on her eldest daughter, gripping her forearms tightly. Rahne's smile disappeared.

"Don't joke with me, Rahne. Is this true?" Boudica looked to Prasutagus, who nodded and sent Andraste and Camile out.

"Show her, Rahne." Prasutagus commanded. Rahne backed away from her mother, thought of wolves and dogs, and found herself as the great red-furred wolf. Boudica's eyes were bugging out of her head.

"The Red Queen," she murmured, going to sit down on one of the low benches. Rahne returned to her girl state and sat with her mother.

"What do you mean, mother?" she asked.

"When I was in child with Camile, Andraste, the war Goddess, came to me in a vision. She said that the death of a loved one would start a war with the Romans, one that only the Red Queen of Wolves and her pack could win. I was hoping this day would never come. Who will die? Boudica explained, looking again to Prasutagus, who shrugged. The war is inevitable now . . ."

**[1] Historical inaccuracies just make it more convenient for me, so forgive me for not being textbook-straight on my history.**

**In this story, all the X-Men members mentioned turn into wolves, just to let you know. Don't worry, I won't go **_**Twilight**_** on you. I'll keep it within reason. ;)**


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